Poets In the Wind

The singing bird and the trees bow before the passing wind The nightingale song winters and springs upon the same wind The child in the garden never seeing but played in the wind Iron hearts afraid of power slipping through their hands the wind Softly where it comes where it goes following toys in the wind The romantic like amber waves blown about by his friend the wind Laughing, singing and dancing the voice of imagist in love with the wind The lyrics from the seas brought home by the songs of the wind From generations past all the fragrances calling from the wind Between the novel and poet trying to discern from the sifting wind Stories from folks writings turn on pages as playthings in the wind